The Chosen One
by candyandfudge
Summary: The summer following the death of Sirius brings an unexpected visitor to the Number 4, Privet Drive.


"Your Aunt Petunia will be taking Dudley to London this afternoon," announced Uncle Vernon over breakfast. "I will be having a business associate over while they are out, and you will remain in your room during that time. Understood, boy?"

Harry nodded. It made little difference to him. Since being left with the Dursleys at Kings Cross at the start of the summer, he had found little motivation to do anything. With the threats from Mad-Eye, Tonks and the rest of the Order still in mind, the Dursleys had left him alone except to provide for meals. This was in fact the first time he could remember Uncle Vernon ordering him to do anything the entire summer, and Harry saw no reason to argue. He spent most of the time cooped up in his room, replaying the events at the Ministry from the spring that had led to Sirius's death.

Dragging his feet up the stairs and into his bedroom, Harry flopped face-first onto his bed and laid there, lost in his thoughts. His melancholy was disturbed briefly by a loud crack emanating from further down the street. Harry wondered if Dudley and his gang had gotten hold of some firecrackers and had decided to test them out in broad daylight. It did seem like something Dudley would do.

A moment later the doorbell rang, and Harry heard his Uncle's booming voice welcoming the business associate into the house with false delight he generally exhibited towards guests.

Harry listened briefly for no reason other than he had nothing better to do. The associate and Uncle Vernon were talking very quietly given that the visitor had to assume they were alone in the house. Uncle Vernon never acknowledged the existence of Harry to anyone but the neighbours (who regrettably saw him entering and leaving) and immediate family that came to visit. Harry could only assume the meeting related to top secret drill technology that Uncle Vernon was planning to offer to his clients. Uncle Vernon always eyed the kitchen suspiciously when he spoke to Dudley and Aunt Petunia (never Harry) about the latest models. "Bloody CCTV is everywhere these days, who knows where they're got them?" he offered as explanation.

Content to slip back into depression for the afternoon, Harry rolled over onto his back and shut his eyes with his limbs in spread-eagle formation.

Suddenly his head jerked up at laughter from below. Not from his uncle, but someone _Harry_ knew. He was certain he recognized that giggle from somewhere, and laid still for another minute before hearing it again. Yes, he definitely knew that laugh. But from whom? He searched his memory and couldn't seem to pinpoint it through the gloom that drenched his thoughts. He had felt numb since Sirius's death, with a feeling of detachment from the wizarding world. But he was certain that laugh was not emanating from a Muggle. It was the laugh of a witch he knew.

Curiosity gripped Harry, wondering who among the many witches he had met could possibly pass for an associate in drill sales, without putting off Uncle Vernon with her strangeness. Such a person would need to be able to mimic the clothing of Muggles, avoid the use of wizarding slang, and be aware of the current events as the Muggle world reported them. These requirements alone left Harry doubting his own hearing, and so against his better judgment he dug through his trunk to find his invisibility cloak. Throwing it over himself, Harry crept out of his room and stepped down on the edges of the stairs to make as little noise as possible.

Peering from the bannister into the living room, Harry saw that the associate was obscured by Uncle Vernon's back, and so he creeped down onto the landing and then tiptoed around the couch to look at the visitor. As he did, he saw a woman leaning into Uncle Vernon with her lips puckered.

"Hermione?!" Harry shouted incredulously as he thrust off his invisibility cloak.

"Petrificus Totalus!" was Hermione's response as her wand seemed to appear from nowhere, and Harry felt his body become rigid as a plank as he thudded onto the floor.

Uncle Vernon was initially unable to disguise his embarrassment at Harry's presence in the room, but his entire face quickly deepened to a shade of purple as rage welled up inside of him. "I TOLD YOU TO STAY UPSTAIRS, BOY!"

Hermione placed her hand on Uncle Vernon's knee and patted it gently. "It's fine, really. I'm very good with memory charms, he won't remember I was ever here after." She frowned at Harry then said, "Just pretend for now that he doesn't exist."

Uncle Vernon's face relaxed as Hermione continued patting, and even more so when she put away her wand. Finally finding the ability to speak calmly again he said, "Perhaps we should slip on upstairs and leave him here from the time being. Petunia and Dudley won't be back until the evening"

"No," said Hermione shaking her head. "I want…I want him to watch," she smiled devilishly.

Uncle Vernon roared with laughter. "I had you pegged as a naughty one right from the beginning I did! Right from the moment I saw you at Kings Cross in June!"

Hermione answered only by shrugging with a smile and shaking off the straps of her dress. Turning her back to Uncle Vernon she said, "A little help with the zipper?"

Uncle Vernon eyed Hermione greedily. "Of course! Who else should help you, but the Chosen One?"


End file.
